


jesus christ 1944 (god bless america)

by weasleysking



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Feels, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Steve Rogers, Heavy Angst, M/M, Post-Battle of Azzano (Marvel), Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26745988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasleysking/pseuds/weasleysking
Summary: He looked around him wearily. French churches were certainly prettier than Brooklyn ones, war damaged or not, he’d give it that much. He’d bring Steve back here early tomorrow morning, before the sun rose and they were forced to move on to the next town, after a restless, nightmare riddled sleep no doubt; they would definitely benefit from walking the short distance in the cool morning air. Steve would probably want to draw the bloody thing. He’d tell Bucky to relish in it, to breathe and rest for a simple second and take in their surroundings. The church really was very pretty; tall, made of stone, the outside showing off a clock that stopped working in a storm earlier that year, the cleaner had told Bucky in broken english when he’d arrived a few moments ago. The man had gone now; he’d said the church stayed open all night. Apparently Bucky wasn’t alone in wanting peace and quiet in the Lord’s house.or; bucky takes time alone in a war damaged small french town church to reflect on his love for steve and what he wants for their future.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	jesus christ 1944 (god bless america)

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god, its been SUCH a long time; i am so fucking sorry HAHAAHHA.  
> i've missed you all so much! here's my long awaited stucky comeback lol.  
> ily all thank u for sticking with me through this! pls leave kudos & comment, it means so much xxx

_ Montfort-l'Amaury  _

_ Église Saint-Pierre de Montfort-l'Amaury  _

_ 1944 _

The church wasn’t old - perhaps the same age as him - but like almost every small town in Western Europe they’d taken shelter in over the last few months, whether it had suffered war damage or not, it looked old, run down, derelict. Cold and empty. The village of Montfort-l 'Amaury was no exception. The town had suffered minimal losses in the Versille bombing a month earlier, but nonetheless, the townsfolk were constantly shut up in their homes, terrified to step foot outside their front door for fear of losing last moments with family. _ Not that lockin’ yourself in the apartment above your family’s fuckin’ book store is gonna save you if they bomb the place anyway,  _ Bucky thought a little snarkily to himself as he sat on the cold wooden pews in the empty church. _ Sorry,  _ he added as an afterthought to his comment, though who he was apologising to, he wasn’t sure. 

He looked around him wearily. French churches were certainly prettier than Brooklyn ones, war damaged or not, he’d give it that much. He’d bring Steve back here early tomorrow morning, before the sun rose and they were forced to move on to the next town, after a restless, nightmare riddled sleep no doubt; they would definitely benefit from walking the short distance in the cool morning air. Steve would probably want to draw the bloody thing. He’d tell Bucky to relish in it, to breathe and rest for a simple second and take in their surroundings. The church really was very pretty; tall, made of stone, the outside showing off a clock that stopped working in a storm earlier that year, the cleaner had told Bucky in broken english when he’d arrived a few moments ago. The man had gone now; he’d said the church stayed open all night. Apparently Bucky wasn’t alone in wanting peace and quiet in the Lord’s house. A lot of the townsfolk had a habit of coming and going through the night, he’d said - which begged the question of why the night was any safer than the day for them to leave their homes - but at this moment, he guessed just after eleven, the church was dark, cold and silent. 

Biding his time and trying not to think about the very things he came here to admit to himself, he continued to peer at his surroundings. The stained glass glistened in the light of the almost full moon in the clear sky outside; it was pretty much his only source of light, sans the candles that lit the wooden pillar three rows in front of him. The crosses positioned on the walls everywhere he looked seemed to be watching him; he could feel the guilt weighing in his chest when he remembered how long it had been since he’d sat in a church. That wasn’t something he’d be mentioning to his Ma in his next letter home. 

Home. 

The word struck a chord inside of him that opened a floodgate of thoughts threatening to spill from his mind the moment he’d stopped to breathe that evening; it was those thoughts that had forced him from the tiny deserted house they’d chosen to settle down at for the night to get some rest, forced him to tell Steve he needed to be  _ alone.  _ Steve hadn’t been hurt, exactly - Bucky thought maybe he was just worried about him, which of course, he had every right to be, and wouldn’t be wrong to worry, but Bucky wasn’t planning anything stupid. Not tonight. 

No, tonight, he was thinking about home. 

Tonight, he was thinking about how he was never going to see it again. 

Of course, he couldn’t be sure. You could never be sure, not in a war, not in this war. But Bucky was sure, pretty sure, at least, that even if he did live to see home again, it would never be the same. Not because of the damage it will have suffered, not because his family will continue to be dirt poor or because God Forbid, Steve isn’t with him. 

No, home would never be the same because Bucky wasn’t the same. 

Steve had spent every moment Bucky had chosen to open up to him about these fears attempting to reassure him that  _ God, Buck, that’s how we all feel, none of us are the same as when we started here, no one in this war will ever be the same as when they started.  _ And Steve wasn’t wrong, of course everyone would change over the course of the war, that’s what the battle scars did to you. The things they’d seen would make sure of that. But what Steve didn’t understand, and the real reason Bucky needed time alone to think, was that for Bucky, it was different. 

He was different. He felt different. 

It had been four months since Steve had rescued him from Azzano and since then, he’d made friends with men he would never forget as long as he lived, travelled with said men around West Europe bombing half a dozen HYDRA bases, and had stolen a hundred or so forbidden secret moments with the love of his life. But despite all of that, Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a different person to when he’d been captured and dragged to Zola’s lab to what he was when he was dragged from it by Steve. He couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever Zola and Schmidt had done to him had been more than just experimenting. It had been intentional, and it had become permanent. What  _ it  _ was remained to be seen; physically, he’d never felt stronger - but his mind, well - Bucky’s mind had always been complex, that was what being human was, right? But the new complexities, the new him, his mind was weak. It felt vulnerable, penetrable, like they’d slowed down his wit and fogged over his sharpness. 

Pushing these ideas from his tired mind, Bucky sighed heavily and bent his head, clasping his hands together tightly and squeezing his eyes shut, preparing himself for the real reason he came here, tonight. 

“It’s been a while,” he muttered into the darkness, “so bear with me.” He exhaled, keeping his eyes shut and squeezing his hands together even tighter, trying to bring himself any sort of comfort he could muster. 

“ _ Ave Maria, gratia plena, sancta Maria, Mater Dei.  _ I’m not here for me. I’m here for him. I know what they’d say about us if they knew - we’re sinners, Lord, pray for them sinners. But no matter what they say, they’ll never know, none of us will know, at least not while we’re alive what  _ you  _ think. Maybe we’re not sinners in your eyes. But Lord, if we are, like I said, I don’t know - I pray for us. I pray for  _ him.  _ Don’t spend any time on me; I’m not who you want. If anyone of us is a sinner, it’s me. Look how bloody long it’s been since I stepped foot in a church. Sorry. I’m not cut out for this. I never was. You know that. I know that. But him - he - Steve - he is. He’s cut out for everything. He’s cut out for anything life decides to throw his way, and I’m not saying that just because he’s all strong and huge now - he’s always been strong like that, since the day I met him and long before. I ain’t cut out for this. Not for this war, not for this life. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got a heart, but I don’t think it was meant for loving - at least not anyone but him. The way he cares about people, you should see him - you  _ must  _ see him - he’s special. He’s one of a kind. Trust me, you don’t want to lose him to this.” 

Bucky paused and took a long, deep breath, then continued, his eyes still closed and hands holding each other together to stop from shaking. 

“I ain’t biased. Well, okay, maybe I am, a little. But he’s the one - I’m telling you, he’s the one - he’s the one you gotta save. If you can only save one of us, it’s him. I’m not - I’m not me, anymore. Even if I was, I’d still be asking you, telling you - it’s gotta be him. He’s - He’s everything. Not just to me - just about anyone he meets, he touches in ways I can’t explain, but if you’re as real as they say you are, you must know it. Please -” his voice broke, and he didn’t even register it, “please.” 

He paused again. 

“It’s him,” Bucky whispered into the darkness. “Him, it’s Steve, not me. He’s gonna save the world - I’m only here to love him, and what use is that to anyone in war?  _ Ave Maria, gratia plena,  _ don’t waste your time on a sinner like me. He’ll change everything, I know it in my heart, and my heart’s the only thing I trust anymore. S _ ancta Maria, Mater Dei  _ \- I love him. I love him, I love him - if you love us all like they say, can you add one more sinner’s words to your list? He deserves to  _ live. _ ” 

He was crying, he realised, as he opened his eyes - there were tears streaking down his cheeks and he wiped them away hastily. He stood up quickly, ignoring the pain in his chest and his shaking hands, and without another word, he slid from the pews, walked down the aisle and pushed open the door, letting the cool night air bite his wet cheeks. 

Yes, he thought. He would bring Steve here tomorrow morning. Steve would like it here. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! pls drop a comment! i love u all !! im on twitter as @elenaclqire, come say hi! <3


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